


Turning Tides

by titC



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: "Lucifer Around the World", F/M, Feels, Gen, Lucifer is a slither-in, Lucifer's family, Maze's knives, so is lying down everywhere, waking up is a meaningful activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vacation and a redemption. Sort of.<br/>Also, cocktails and mulled wine. It's deep.</p><p>Belongs to the "Lucifer Around The World" ongoing fic fest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Tides

**Author's Note:**

> If, like me, you like to have some idea of what to expect or are wary of potential triggers, go to the end notes. Since they could be spoilery, I'm not putting them up before the story so everyone can choose what to do :-)

It had been a hellish few weeks.

Dan's betrayal, Trixie's kidnapping, Lucifer sort-of-dying – she couldn't get his choked breaths, there on the floor of the warehouse, out of her mind – then not, his disappearing and coming back a few days later... She'd been furious with him, finding him sitting in her kitchen when she got back home with Trixie as if he hadn't fallen off the face of the Earth for days; but when Trixie ran to him and squeezed his middle while he patted her head awkwardly and threw Chloe desperate, cornered-animal glances she relented a bit.

“Where have you been?”

“Why, Detective, did you miss me?”

“Did I – honestly, Lucifer! You weren't answering my texts, I couldn't find Maze or your brother, Linda knew nothing; what the hell?” He opened his mouth. “No, just – don't say it.”

“As you wish, my dear. It was just... a family matter. Nothing to worry about, all done, I'm all yours to do as you wish once again.” Arms spread out from his body, he was even leering at her, the lech.

“Trix, baby, go to your room, will you?” When she could hear her daughter close the door to her little queendom, she turned back to him. “Now will you tell me why you look as if you haven't slept in a week?”

“Aw, Detective, don't be like that! Do you hear me mentioning the giant bruise on your face?” He peered at her. “How is the lout who did this to you?”

She couldn't help her supremely satisfied smirk. “In jail with a broken wrist.”

“Excellent!” He stood up. “Now, Detective, I suggest you pack a bag for, hm, about ten days? Warm weather clothes, of course; the skimpier the better.” He winked. “Come on, chop chop!” She stayed put. “Detective? Why are you still sitting here? We've got a plane to catch!” He looked about ready to manhandle her up and into packing if she didn't move it in the next few seconds.

“Lucifer. _Lucifer_. Stop it.” He froze, blinking at her. “I've got a job, I've got a daughter, and are you insane? Wait, no, don't answer that.”

“I am _not_! I spoke to your lieutenant and she agreed that you needed a break! It's fine!”

Well, that would explain the strange grins and thumb-ups she'd gotten from her boss this afternoon when she left. She'd thought it had been for doing her job, though. She felt a bit cheated out of hard-earned kudos. “What about Trixie?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, well, I'm sure your mother can take care of her, right?”

“No way, I'm not letting her alone with my daughter for more than a few hours.”

“Ah, well. We'll just have to bring the little human with us, then. There's plenty of room anyway.”

She glared at him. “And school?”

“Ah, yes, that. Well I'm sure they can send her boring homework, right? We'll have the Internet there. And traveling, can you imagine? It'll be educational! What do you say?” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide and innocent (hah), he was like a puppy with a new toy.

She sighed. A beach vacation sounded like Heaven; she desperately needed a break. Trixie probably did too. Kids were resilient, the therapist had said, but still. She knew her baby girl was still shaken up. “I'll call the school. If, and I say if, they agree, I'll think about it.”

“Think quickly, Detective! We have to be at the airport in three hours!” He yelled at her while she went upstairs to call the school in peace.

 

First class. He'd got them first class seats, even for Trixie even though she hadn't been part of his plans. Sipping her glass of wine while her daughter was happily creating a Picasso-like masterpiece with crayons, she watched Lucifer next to her. He was busy typing emails, sending texts and working on what looked like accounting charts on a sleek laptop. She had never really thought about his job, but he did have one, in fact. She had always more or less assumed someone else did all these boring day-to-day things and that he only popped downstairs for a couple of songs and some raunchy dancing at Lux before a nightly orgy or something. From time to time, he'd look up and beam at her, bright and happy. She relaxed back into her seat and dozed until landing.

 

Chloe was surprised to hear Lucifer speak fluent Spanish. He sounded European, though; his consonants a bit harsher than the locals here. Trixie was looking at him with big eyes, obviously just as surprised as her mother and in full hero-worship mode. He herded them into a rented vintage car – a fetish of his, Chloe assumed – and threw their bags in the trunk – _the_ _boot_ , he'd said, of course. They drove along the Mexican coast until they arrived to a little house by the beach, the stars reflected in the ocean and the sound of the waves soothing and peaceful.

He opened the car door for her, exchanged a few words with a woman who handed him the keys, and they got settled. Trixie hardly ever woke up from the back seat of the car to the bed, exhausted by all the excitement of an unexpected trip.

Chloe found Lucifer leaning against the railing over the sea, a cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers and a tumbler of something probably very alcoholic on the low table.

“I don't know what to say, Lucifer.”

“Hmm?” He sounded pensive.

“It's... I wasn't expecting so much. It must have cost you a fortune.”

“I _have_ a fortune. Several, in fact. Just enjoy it.”

“Well. I really don't understand you sometimes, but...Thank you.” She looked around. “It's gorgeous here.”

“Wait until the morning, Detective. You can't be seeing much right now.” He turned towards her.

“I see enough.” She took his glass and took a swallow. “Mm, tequila. Seriously though. Where did you learn Spanish?”

“I'm good with languages, Detective. I'm good with words.”

“Don't want to talk about it, all right. I'll add it to the list. You know, Trixie speaks it too.”

“From former Detective Douche?”

“Yeah. I can more or less survive in Spanish, but she's much better than me.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette. “Ana told me there are activities for little ones in the village. She sometimes accompanies day trips herself, with her boy. You can go tomorrow and see if something might be good for Beatrice.”

“Activities?”

“They have a lot of tourists vacationing around here. It's a thriving business. She'd be safe, and you could relax.” He raised his eyebrows. “I am, of course, perfectly willing to help you with that. Sex is known to – ”

“Lucifer!” She shoved him playfully. “Don't break the mood, please. It's late, I think I'll just turn in. Good night. And thank you.”

She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek, and left him looking a bit dazed against the railing, his cigarette burning down to ash between his fingers.

 

She woke up to sunlight on her face, and her daughter's joyful squeals coming from outside. Yawning, she slipped a sundress on and padded outside. Trixie was running on the private beach, scaring the birds into taking flight. She spotted Lucifer pretending not to watch over her girl from a lounger, a newspaper spread in his lap. He looked better than the day before, more rested.

“Hey.”

“Good morning, Detective. Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in weeks. Might still go for a nap this afternoon, though.” She eyed him. “Do you plan on wearing suits on the beach?”

“But I look good in suits!”

“It's not proper beach vacation dress, Lucifer.”

“Your wish is my command. Sand and Armani don't go well together anyway.” He stood up. “Breakfast?”

“Ooh, yes, let's.”

She called Trixie, and Lucifer got plates of fruit and cheese from the fridge, artfully cut up and arranged to look like smiley faces and fish and flowers.

“I didn't even hear anyone coming this morning,” Chloe said.

“What, do you mean to bring this? No, Detective. It's all our hard work. While you were snuffling in your pillow the little human here and I slaved over this.”

Trixie giggled. “Lucifer said I was good with a knife, and that he'd get Maze to teach me some of her tricks!”

“He'll do nothing of the kind, baby.” She tried to give him her best glare, but as usual it was like water on a duck.

“A shame, that. She's got real talent. Look at those cubes! She could get a job as Maze's assistant cocktail artist!”

 

They demolished breakfast, and Lucifer disappeared somewhere indoors while she settled Trixie with some homework and stretched out on a lounger, book in hand. She considered taking the car this afternoon with Trixie to check out those activities he'd mentioned. Or maybe tomorrow.

Lucifer joined them at lunchtime, carrying a tray with sandwiches and cocktails on the low table between the loungers.

“You've gone all British butler on us, Jeeves.” Chloe stretched and let out a little sigh of happiness, eliciting a grin from Lucifer.

“Well, you like pointing out I sound British, so it seemed appropriate.” He turned to Trixie. “Here, tiny human. Fresh juice for you, because your mother would skin me alive if I gave you a proper holiday drink.”

“ _Aren't_ you British?” Chloe asked.

“Nope.”

“O-kay. And what do you sound like, for real?”

“Whatever you'd like me to,” he answered like a Texas cowboy chewing beef jerky.

“Oh my god, no, no no no!” She laughed. “That's... horrible!”

 

Chloe felt pleasantly warm sprawled out on the lounger, and doing anything else other than reaching out for her glass seemed like too much hard work. As much as she didn't want to admit it, he'd been right: she'd needed it.

Lucifer had unearthed a kite from somewhere, and he was showing Trixie how to make it fly higher and higher. Showing off, more like. It was probably time to slather her girl with some more sunblock, she mused. Late afternoon sun was still sun. She yelled for her daughter.

“Mommy! Mommy, did you see how high it got?”

“Yes I did, monkey. Now turn around, I have to put sunscreen on your shoulders.” As she was spreading the thick cream, she looked up at Lucifer. He was, surprisingly enough, wearing shorts, and a short-sleeved shirt that he'd left open. She didn't know him to be body shy and she wondered about it. “Okay baby, you can go now!”

Trixie ran back outside, her hair streaming behind her from under her baseball cap.

Chloe looked up at Lucifer. “You should put some sunscreen on too, you know.”

“I don't burn. I may get a bit red sometimes, I suppose.”

“Come here and get this shirt off, I'll do your back and shoulders at least. Aren't you too warm wearing that?”

He looked away. “I'm fine, detective. Would you like a piña colada? I feel like one, don't you?”

She watched him walk back inside. He didn't come out until the evening.

 

The first few days were lazy and sun-drenched. Lucifer was making cocktails, grilling fish, sometimes disappearing inside with his phone and laptop for a few hours; Trixie was often playing on the beach, making sandcastles and swimming with Chloe. It was hard to remember when she'd last felt so light-hearted and carefree, with no other obligation than enjoying herself.

There was a weird moment one day when, as they were strolling back from the village, Trixie heard a kitten meowing piteously in the dry grass. They found what was probably its mother, dead, a little bit further up on the road, and Trixie started crying then. Lucifer looked angrily at the dead cat, shuffled around a bit and then took off his shirt to wrap the kitten and put it in her daughter's arms. “There,” he said. “I know _you_ won't try and torture it, at least.”

Trixie looked up indignantly at him. “Of course I won't! Don't be silly!” She peered up at him. “Why do you move weirdly?”

“I do not, little one.” He turned her around in front of him in the direction of the beach house and gave her a little push. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

“You do though,” Chloe said after a few minutes.

“I do what, Detective?”

“With Trixie. You avoided turning your back on her and it was terribly awkward.”

“He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Oh, is that so?”

“It is so.” She poked him in the arm. “She won't faint when she sees them, you know.”

“I'd rather not test your theory, Detective. I remember you were pretty shocked.”

“It looks like it must have hurt, Lucifer. It's called compassion. It doesn't seem to prevent you from having wild naked orgies up at your place, though.”

“People don't see them.”

“Well, maybe they're too polite to mention you have giant scars on your back, but – ”

“I am being perfectly serious, Detective. You've seen me naked in public. Was anyone staring?”

“I... no, but – ”

“You're the first human to ever see them. I'd rather not test your daughter to see if she can too.” He jabbed a finger in the air. “Now, what about mai tais when we get back?”

She went along with his obvious redirecting, but she couldn't shake the conversation out of her mind. Especially later that night when Trixie, already tucked up in bed with the kitten in a box at the foot of her bed, asked what had happened to Lucifer's back.

 

The next morning, Trixie was brimming with excitement. Chloe had packed her lunch for the day trip, promised she'd check regularly on the kitten, and walked her daughter to the village so early Lucifer was still invisible and probably still asleep. She decided she'd have breakfast there and browse the shops before going back to the beach house.

She tried on dresses, bought some jewelry, considered bringing her mother a souvenir. It was a pleasant morning, slow and quiet; right until a man ran into the café she'd stopped in.

“¡Señora! Señora Decker, ¡se ocurrió un accidente en la cueva!”

Her blood ran cold. “What? Trixie! ¿Dónde? ¡Dígame!” She tried not to shake the answer out of the man, he was clearly just as distraught as she was. She gathered his daughter was accompanying the day trip with her own boy, and that she'd called him. Javier drove like he had the hounds of hell at his heels up the mountain, and Chloe and the other three parents in the car – a German couple and an Ecuadorian man – were all holding their breath and wishing for him to get there even faster.

Once they got in front of the cave entrance, she immediately understood what she couldn't from the quick-paced Spanish. Giant boulders were blocking the entrance, and most of the kids were sitting silent outside with two adults. One of them must have been Javier's daughter; she came to them and started crying in his arms and gesturing at the rocks. Her boy was still inside, with Trixie.

The German kid was outside though, and he ran to his parents. After a few minutes, the woman called Chloe and in accented English told her what had happened. A sudden rock slide up on the mountain, the group running outside when they heard the thundering noise, the collapse before everyone was out. Some of the children had been further inside the cave though, and hadn't been able to get out. Hopefully, they weren't under the rocks.

 

Chloe looked at the civil engineers trying to work out how to safely remove the rocks without causing more collapse while other people yelled at the rocks hoping to hear from the kids inside. The three kids that had been more adventurous, more curious, and who were trapped in the cave. Local rangers shook their heads when they came back from the other entrance to the cave system further up: it was blocked too, and harder to reach.

She sat there, clutching her phone and wondering why her little girl had to go through so much. After two hours, she stood and walked a little around the entrance, trying not to disturb what the rescuers were doing. Javier had driven down to the village to bring back food and drinks for the people trying to help, and was waiting anxiously with his daughter and the Ecuadorian dad. He handed Chloe some iced coffee and she thanked him, then went back to her pacing.

She saw something glinting on the ground a bit further up, and as she drew nearer she saw it was a ring. A signet ring. She thought she recognized it – it was silver, with a square black stone. It was suspiciously like Lucifer's. She picked it up and looked in front of her. There was a crevice in the rock, hardly larger than a child's hand. He couldn't have squeezed in there. What the hell?

She walked a bit further along the rock, but there was no sign of any possible way in. She went back to the cave entrance, feeling useless and shattered while workers gingerly moved a few rocks only to discover even more boulders behind. Lucifer never answered the texts she sent him.

 

When night came, the rescue team shook their heads and said they didn't dare try anything else at night, but Javier and his daughter Ana handed her a blanket and they made a fire in front of the cave. Agostino, the Ecuadorian, had gone down to the village for the night, saying that all those stones felt too much like a grave and that he couldn't take it anymore. Chloe could understand him.

 

When the sun came up, the rescuers were already here, grim-faced and looking like they hadn't slept that night. Agostino had come back with women from the village, bringing food, coffee and a little altar. Chloe had thought she had no tears left in her, but she had been wrong. As the sun went up in the sky, the rescuers were shaking their heads more than trying and moving rocks, and Chloe was losing what little hope she had left.

 

A little before 11, they heard yells coming from higher up in the mountain. Everybody started to look up, and after a while two kids ran down. They were filthy, covered in dirt and clay, and grinning like mad. Javier, Ana and Agostino ran to them, crying and kissing and hugging the two boys. A minute or two afterwards, while Chloe felt unable to move or hope or think, Trixie was there, perched on Lucifer's shoulders. He quickly got her down and she rushed to her mother. “Mommy! Mommy, we had an _adventure_!”

Kneeling in the dust, Chloe gathered her baby girl and peppered her little grubby face with kisses and tears. Looking up at Lucifer, she saw the crowd around him, asking how he'd done it, where he'd found them, and could he come eat with them tonight, no, come to my place. He looked supremely awkward and sent her beseeching, come-save-me glances, and Chloe laughed at him before looking back at her girl. “What happened, baby? I was so worried!”

Trixie started babbling something about Lucifer suddenly appearing out of nowhere, taking them through the caves, long beautiful tunnels of shimmering stone and glistening stalagmites; talking bats into bringing them some fruit somehow; singing and yelling and clapping and listening to the echoes for long minutes; crossing underground rivers and jumping over crevices and, to hear Trixie, having a grand old time, albeit entirely much too fantastical to be true.

“So Lucifer had brought torches and batteries with him then?” Seriously, he was only wearing a light shirt and jeans, not even the smallest backpack.

“He doesn't need torches, Mommy!” Her daughter looked at her like she'd asked the most stupid question ever, and she wasn't even a teenager yet. Chloe smiled, thinking that she'd get to be a teenager, and wasn't that enough?

 

After Lucifer had managed to extract himself from the people thanking him, asking him how he'd done it and shaking his hand and hugging him, he joined Chloe and Trixie and they walked back to his car, parked a little further down the road, away from the others. “I found your ring,” she said.

“I thought you might.”

“Was I supposed to understand something?”

“Well yes: that I'd gone after your daughter. It was meant to reassure you! Why didn't it work? Did you not trust I'd get her out, safe and sound?” He sounded almost hurt, she thought.

“Given that the rangers, who know the area very well, said all entrances were blocked, I don't quite know how you could. How you did.”

“Well, I... slithered in, if you would.”

“Slithered in.”

“hm hm.”

“You're not a snake, Lucifer.” He grinned. His canines were... rather pointy, admittedly, but still. Not fangs. “You're going to give me the same tall tales Trixie did, I imagine?” His grin widened. “Oh, fine. Whatever.” She looked behind to watch Trixie, sleeping on the back seat. “You're still the biggest damn heroic pain in the ass I know.”

“Why thank you, Detective.”

“Thank _you_.”

 

Back at the beach house in the early afternoon, they found a well fed kitten purring in the shade and heaps of food, local produce and alcohol in the kitchen, with a note from the villagers. Lucifer started to scrunch it up but she stopped him and smoothed it out. “You could keep it. Maybe frame it,” she teased.

“I most certainly couldn't.” He filled a shot glass with tequila and got a second one out, but she shook her head. “You should go hose down Beatrice, she's covered in half of the caves we crossed.”

“Yeah, okay. I'm keeping the note, though.”

He shrugged and went outside, bottle in one hand and glass in the other. She really didn't understand his moods sometimes.

 

Once Trixie was looking more like a little girl and less like a tiny golem, and after a quick shower herself, Chloe joined Lucifer outside. He'd apparently gone through half the bottle and a dozen cigarettes, but he didn't seem drunk yet. “Have you eaten anything? I think Trix is about to fall asleep in her guacamole, but there's plenty left.”

“I think I'll go have a wash myself,” he said. He sounded more tired than half an hour ago, when adrenaline must have still been coursing through his veins. Chloe felt very shaky too. He pushed himself away from the railing and stumbled, his long legs not following the rest of him. She caught his bicep and pushed him back against the wall, and he hissed between his teeth when his back slammed on the wood.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I... they just ache sometimes.” He straightened, his eyes over her shoulder, and left her there wondering, between the tequila and the smoldering cigarette butts.

 

Half an hour later, she thought that Trixie had had the right idea when she'd decided to take a nap with the kitten, bedroom curtains drawn to hide the glare of the early afternoon sun. Lucifer had still not emerged from the bathroom though, and there was absolutely no sound coming from there. Slightly worried, she knocked softly and entered when he didn't answer.

She found him in the huge bathtub, eyes closed and steam rising from the water. His hair was slicked back, lightly curling; and a tumbler, empty, was dangling from his fingers, on the verge of falling and shattering on the tiled floor. She removed it from his weak grip and put it on the counter, and watched him blink his eyes open. She sat on the lip of the bathtub.

“I thought you would ask me to join you,” she said after he'd kept silent for a minute.

“I didn't want to hear you say no,” he answered.

“Maybe I wouldn't.”

“I didn't want you to say yes because of Beatrice.”

Her eyes widened. “I... Lucifer, do you actually believe I would?”

He closed his eyes again, sinking a bit more in the water.

“Lucifer.”

She thought back on all the times he'd leered at her, joked, asked her out. He'd never had any really inappropriate gesture, though. Well, maybe the naked thing, but... She thought he'd been honest, in his own weird way, when he'd claimed he wanted to even things out between them. She thought of him following her because he'd never promised he wouldn't _follow_ , of him carrying her through the fire when she couldn't breathe anymore because of the smoke. She thought of how Trixie adored him, how he respected her competence more than Dan ever had, how Doctor Linda had a huge soft spot for him; she thought of Maze's loyalty and his strange delusions.

As she undressed, she looked at him: a knee poking out of the water, his fingers playing something slow on his stomach, a bit of dark hair growing back on his chest. He did have a nice chest, she mused. A nice everything, really. He didn't look very devilish, though. She smiled, trying to picture him with horns, a tail, maybe great leathery bat wings.

His dark eyes slitted open when she got in the water with him, but he didn't move anything else, waiting for her to show the way. Settling on his lap, her knees framing his hips, she first splayed a hand on his chest. She could feel his breathing, irregular and slow. She could feel his heart, hammering inside. She let her fingers go slowly up, up, until she touched a shoulder, his neck, his face. He closed his eyes again, his lips parting open, exhaling. She bent forward, and just before she kissed him she thought she heard a tiny moan, almost as if he were in pain. She kissed him unhurriedly, savoring the feel of his skin against hers, of his stubble on her lips. After a while, she took one of his hand, put it on her waist. She'd expected him to be a bit brash; all athletic, marathon sex and an overwhelming presence hovering above her. He wasn't; and in that moment of things quiet and new, she enjoyed it.

His hand started wandering on her body, raising goosebumps everywhere it went. Her hip, her back, her arm, her breast... His other hand finally raised too and tangled in her hair, cupped her skull. She felt warm all over.

She squirmed a bit in his lap and he jerked up, pupils wide and dark. Water was everywhere on the bathroom floor. “Chloe...”

“Let's move this elsewhere, all right?” She felt her mouth split in a wide smile, seeing him a bit dazed and wild-eyed. His hand slipped under her and he stood up, carrying her one-handed and grabbing a towel with the other. She sometimes forgot how freakish strong he was, but it certainly was a turn-on. Ankles hooked in the small of his back, she peered into the corridor first, hoping Trixie was sound asleep and not about to witness more than she should.

She tried to muffle her giggles in his neck when they half-fell, half-threw themselves on the bed, rolling around a bit until she was sitting on his stomach, her hair dripping on his chest and making his skin quiver. His hands were making slow, sinuous patterns on her thighs; big and warm and gentle. “I'm not so fragile,” she told him.

“Maybe I am.”

“Maybe you are,” she agreed. He didn't quite seem to believe she'd finally come to him.

She felt his hand go up to her hip, a thumb slip between his stomach and her body, going around and around, but not where she wanted it _exactly_. Her breath quickened, and he smirked at her, and that's it. She'd had enough.

She bent forward and whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, Lucifer.”

And he did.

 

A few hours later, as the sun was almost floating on the ocean, she languidly stretched to voices outside, quiet and happy. She reveled in her body, life running through her veins along with mere blood. She could still feel his skin under the pads of her fingers, soft and downy and delicate. She could see him in her mind's eye, sprawled on his belly and and arm around her waist. She'd let her hand dare to get closer and closer to his scars, until she'd finally touched them. He'd remained quiet, a bit tense at first, then slowly melting back in the bed. They didn't look so horrible and painful as she thought they had the first time she'd seen them, she mused. They didn't feel as rough as they looked.

Opening her eyes and looking around, she realized they'd apparently ended up in her room. She wrapped a pareo around herself and walked out of the room, barefoot and unhurried, finding Lucifer and Trixie arguing about the best way to fire the grill. He was brandishing a lighter, she was waving a matchbox; he said he was the devil and knew better anyway, she said her dad used matches and _he_ knew better. He feigned utter disgust at losing the argument, to Trixie's absolute joy.

He still didn't let her light the matches herself, though.

 

In the early morning, Chloe slowly emerged from deep slumber into a light doze, lulled by the sounds of the ocean outside and Lucifer breathing softly next to her. She let her thoughts wander from her baby girl's smile to Lucifer's mouth; from Javier and Ana dropping by in the evening to the night afterwards. She let her eyes open slowly, and was a bit surprised to see the sky still very dark apart from one lone star over the horizon. She turned her head and gasped – she hadn't been woken up by the first sun rays of the day. It was all Lucifer. Spread out over the bedsheets, he was glowing gently, the cold light of a faraway star. She shook him gingerly.

“Lucifer. Lucifer!” she whispered.

“Mmmh,” he said. She was almost blinded when he started opening his eyes, and she covered her face with a yelp to let her pupils adjust. “Oh. Sorry.” When she looked back at him, he was rubbing his eyes with a hand as the glow dimmed.

“What... what was that?”

“Mmh. Me,” he mumbled.

“Do you usually switch yourself on at night?”

The corners of his lips turned up. “Not in a long time. Used to happen in the morning, mostly.”

“But...”

“S'in my name.” He rolled closer, sliding an arm around her.

“Lucifer?”

“Lucifer _Morningstar_.” It was a full-blown smile now.

“You – oh g... – you. So I got myself a glow-in-the-dark boyfriend. Fine. I can totally deal.” Or not. Maybe?

“Also, the devil.”

Definitely not dealing. “Yeah, we'll talk about that in the morning. The real morning.” She let her eyes close again, because frankly after the last two days a glow-in-the-dark boyfriend would need some more time to properly register. Maybe it was just one of those odd dreams people had sometimes?

In fact, she wouldn't remember it until months later.

 

They were almost at the end of their vacation. Chloe felt like she was about to leave a magic little bubble, and she wasn't sure she felt up to going back to LA. Working homicide, dealing with her mother, taking Trixie to visit Dan. Seeing men and women throwing themselves at Lucifer. The cold, cold light of reality looming at the end of the week made her reconsider what they'd just started, and she didn't want to.

She checked her phone when it chimed, a message from Ana asking if Trixie could stay with them tonight instead of coming back here. So that she could be alone with her _hombre_ , she'd written with a smiley. She quickly sent yes before changing her mind.

As she scratched the kitten's chin, she tried to rationalize it. What did Lucifer want – what was she to him? A holiday fling, good fun with a friend, something more, something less? She couldn't face being hurt after the last year, and yet she feared she was already in too deep with him.

She removed some downy feathers stuck on the kitten's belly, very white on its grayish fur. It reminded her of Lucifer, purring under her hands and seemingly at her mercy, but dangerous too. This kitty was apparently a bird hunter already. And Lucifer...

“Already cheating on me with Mr cat, I see.”

“Maybe it's Miss cat,” she said, taking the margarita he was handing her.

“Hm, no. Definitely a he.” He smirked at her. “Takes one to know one.”

She settled against his shoulder, her legs stretched out. “I think I'll go in cocktail withdrawal when we're back.”

“You just have to ask, Chloe. I'll make you all the cocktails you want.” She felt his lips on her hair. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Mimosas in the morning?”

“Mimosas in the morning.”

“Getting Trixie home from school and making her do her homework?” She felt his chuckle against her scalp.

“Only if I get to see you afterwards.”

“Even if it's just to throw you out because it's been a long day?”

“Well, I'd have to be back in the morning for the mimosas anyway. This wouldn't be a very efficient arrangement, I think.”

“Yeah, you're right. How do you feel about the couch? Aaaah!” she shrieked when he tickled her.

“See? I knew that cat had already taken my rightful place in your bed.”

“Rightful...? Ooooh, I'll show you your rightful place – ”

The tickle war ended with them breathless on her bed, the slight evening breeze coming from the window cooling the skin on her stomach where he'd rested his head.

“I know what you're thinking,” he said, very low in the quiet house.

“Do you.”

“I meant it, you know. When I said, 'anything'.”

“I know you meant it, Lucifer. But...” She sighed.

“But, you don't trust me.” His voice was very subdued then.

“I do trust you. You've done things for Trix and me that I would never have expected of anyone. But our lives are so different. How can it work outside of this house?” She twisted until she faced him, chin in her cupped hands.

“I don't know how it's supposed to work, Chloe. You'll have to tell me.”

“I don't understand you sometimes. You claim you hate children and you run into a cave for three kids. You insist you're the devil and you can't stand dishonesty. You say you're the king of hell but you made friends with a priest. You seem to have orgies almost every night in your penthouse and then you drop everything to take me and Trixie here. I don't know where I'm supposed to fit, Lucifer. It's all so...”

She let her head fall back on the pillow with a sigh. He crawled up the bed to join her and she felt him stop moving. When she opened her eyes, she saw him gingerly untangle something from her hair, a very peculiar expression on his face.

“Ugh, Mr cat's been on the bed.”

“Mr cat? Oh. No, it's not a bird feather, it's...” he seemed to falter.

She thought for a moment that he was about to say more, but then he turned around to sit on the edge of the bed, and gently deposited the feather on the bedstand as if it were something precious and holy. She was unsettled, reminded of all his weird, mystifying Lucifer-ness in that moment.

“Okay. Come back to bed?” She let her eyes, then her hand wander on his skin. “You know, the ocean has done you some good too. Your back looks much better.”

“I – what?” He looked at her over his shoulder, then back at the feather. His breathing sped up, harsher and shorter than a minute ago. “I... I have to go talk to... Stay inside.”

Naked, he went out on the beach. He didn't stop there, though. From the bedroom window, she saw him walk into the waves; the foam up to his ankles, his knees. His hips, his chest. He walked on, unperturbed by the ocean crashing into him, and she found she couldn't move, couldn't yell, couldn't do anything but watch him about to drown. “Lucifer,” her mouth tried to say. “Lucifer.” Only her lips moved.

When he'd disappeared entirely, she thought her knees would give out; but still she remained standing at the window, frozen. The water was churning where he'd vanished, almost angrily frothing as if to mark the spot; and she felt like the water itself, angry and nauseous.

After a long, long time, or maybe not a very long time at all, the ocean quieted, going back to its gentle creeping up and down the sand. A tall black man was striding purposefully to the water's edge, his shaved head reflecting the light of the dying sun. He, too, continued into the ocean, but soon he was bending and grabbing something – someone, from under the surface. Lucifer! Lucifer on his knees, coughing and spitting and half collapsed on his brother's shoulder. What was Amenadiel doing here? What had Lucifer been _thinking_?

Chloe felt sensation return to her limbs and ran outside to the two men kneeling in the wet sand. She could hear Amenadiel's low voice, soothing and for once not exchanging snide comments with his brother, and Lucifer... he was making wet sounds in his brother's neck, clutching him like a lifeline. “He talked to me... he talked to me...” he kept saying.

She felt she intruded in a moment she had not part in and started backing away, but then Amenadiel turned to her, hand outstretched.

“Come, Chloe. It's good you are here.”

She remembered she was naked then, but he seemed unfazed and she decided it didn't matter. Not when Lucifer grabbed her fingers and she squeezed his hand, the ocean lapping at her thighs and her knees digging in the sand. She didn't understand, how he'd suddenly gone from promising her mimosas in the mornings to crying in his brother's arms; from asking for her trust to trying to drown himself right in front of her eyes, the absolute _bastard_.

Amenadiel kept saying strange things, “you're fine, Lucifer. It's over. Please stop now, it's embarrassing, don't make me tell Maze about it...”

The ocean had crept up to her waist when finally, Lucifer sat back on his heels and scrubbed at his face roughly. He looked at her and she didn't know what to read in his eyes, it was just – too much.

They walked hand in hand back to the house, naked and wet, the smell of the ocean in their noses. Amenadiel disappeared and reappeared with towels, blankets and glasses of water. Shakily, Lucifer lit a cigarette, then another, then another again. Chloe watched him, his trembling fingers, his hair stiff with salt. Once he had lit the seventh cigarette, he said, voice rough and scratchy: “I'd think you'd know to bring something stronger.”

His brother laughed, and thumped a heavy bottle on the coffee table. “There you are. Now, I'm flying back home and I, for one, do not want to have to come fish you out of the ocean ever again.” He turned to her. “Out of all of us, he always felt everything the most strongly. That is his curse, and his blessing,” Amenadiel said. “Have faith, Chloe Decker. Have faith.”

“Faith...?” But he'd already gone.

 

In the morning, they found an apple in the almost empty the fruit basket. It looked bruised, and Chloe threw it away without a second glance.

***

It had finally taken them less time than she'd expected to find some balance together.

Lucifer didn't join her very often in her cases back at work, but since she'd seen him walk into the ocean she couldn't shake out of her mind all the times he'd seemed not to care for his own safety, his own life. She really didn't want to see him try and get himself killed. It was odd, he usually seemed so confident, almost arrogant at times, self-centered and proud; and yet...

Anyway, after what had happened with Malcolm Chloe felt less ostracized at the precinct. Other cops often worked with her now, and if there were some pointed questions about Lucifer and why he was making himself scarce at the station she'd rather fend off their questions on him than on Dan – and that was a topic everyone seemed happy to avoid.

 

She had, after all, managed to get Lucifer to baby-sit Trixie at least once a week. She pretended she didn't know that sometimes he sent Maze to scare off the occasional school bully, and that all three often ended up at Lux's bar in the afternoon, when it was empty and they could play with all the shakers and blenders and, yes, knives and made apparently awesome smoothies and fruit cocktails.

When Lucifer's brother was around, there seemed to be more homework and less knives, but she suspected Amenadiel to be wary of Maze being anywhere near something sharp and pointy. A few times, she'd found them upstairs, cookies cooling in the kitchen, Trixie bent over the keys on the piano and occasionally banging them, Lucifer patiently taking her through little tunes. Her daughter clearly adored him and Maze, and she was relieved that with Dan... unavailable, she could rely on someone else to be there for Trix.

 

Still, Chloe kept expecting the other shoe to drop. She made sure he went regularly to see Dr Linda, although she wondered if the therapist was getting through his insistence on the devil thing any better than she was. _Something_ was clearly going on with him, what with his family issues and his absolute refusal to talk about what had happened on the beach that last evening; those long, long minutes when she thought he'd drowned, died there while she had been unable to move, rooted in front of the window as if an invisible power had frozen her. Even Amenadiel wasn't very forthcoming. He'd mumbled something about their father and gone to hide in the kitchen when she'd asked.

She felt she couldn't get answers. Sometimes, late at night, she'd find Lucifer looking at the sky, wistful and looking a bit lost, often with a box in his lap. Chloe had opened the box one evening, while she was waiting for him to come back from his piano set downstairs in the club. There were some feathers in there, white and long and soft like the one he'd reverently set on the bedside table back in the beach house. She suspected it was one of those he kept in the box.

Sometimes, when she felt herself go to sleep, she'd startle awake again, her heart beating hard and fast in her chest, shaken up by a sensation of falling, falling, falling down and burning. She'd search for Lucifer next to her then, and grasp his hand, his arm; he'd never say anything and just squeeze back. On the nights she was alone though, she'd clutch her phone and stare at it, not knowing whether to call him or not. She was afraid he wouldn't answer, she was afraid he'd answer too – what could she say? But he always, always knew, somehow. He'd always send her a message just when her panic was ratcheting up, a text or a picture of her favorite flowers on his balcony or a few words recorded from his bed, the sound of the sheets on his bare skin a soothing, familiar background. She kept them religiously, a guilty comfort she turned to at times.

She was afraid that one day, he wouldn't send her anything, and it would mean he'd thrown himself off from his penthouse, a bloody smear on the black asphalt. They'd call her, and she'd have to tell Trixie, and she'd have to face Maze and Amenadiel and Linda and they'd say, why? Why didn't you save him? Why didn't you call him?

On those nights, she never slept.

 

Still, life went on, and all in all their lives slotted rather well together.

 

About six months after their little beach vacation, Chloe started to relax a bit. She stopped expecting Lucifer to disappear again, she had less nightmares about his death, she felt... happy. Content. Lucifer himself seemed mostly at peace, and even Amenadiel and Maze were somewhat less cagey about their... thing. Christmas and the New Year were coming soon, and Trixie was probably plotting something involving glitter, her chemistry set and Maze given the conspiring looks those two were exchanging.

At least for Christmas Dan would be able to join his parents, and she'd planned to send Trixie there to spend a few days with them. She deserved to see her dad. Still, Chloe didn't feel up to facing Dan again; and although it tore her a little inside to be away from her baby girl for Christmas she thought it might better not to be there, at odds with her father and ruining her big day. Especially when Trixie would inevitably start talking about Lucifer and his entourage... They'd be together for New Year's Eve anyway, and clearly Trixie had decided it meant she'd have Christmas twice. In a way, Chloe mused as she cleaned her gun, it was as if they were doing it backwards – the family holiday after the night spent celebrating with friends.

 

Lucifer had suggested leaving LA for a few days, but she had declined. She couldn't face being near the ocean again quite yet, the memory of him nearly drowning was still too painful; but it would be a shame to go to a place with snow and pine trees without Trixie there for the snowmen and snow fights and snow angels and all those things you could never do in Los Angeles. She never knew if he'd actually planned something, because on the day she drove Trixie to her grandparents just before Christmas, everything changed.

 

When she got back home, two men were waiting on her porch, a small leather bag at their feet. As she drew nearer, gun in hand, she saw one of them was sporting a giant wooden cross on his shirt, and the other a huge rosary. Huh.

“Who are you?”

“We've been waiting for you, Chloe Decker,” rosary-guy said.

She thumbed the safety off. “Not my question.”

“We've come to help you get free from the thrall our brother has on you,” the other said, raising his hands palm out.

“What? Thrall? Bro – don't tell me you're _also_ Lucifer's brothers?” Well, that would explain how they knew of her, perhaps. And them showing up at her place without warning.

“Yes. We've known him long enough to know when to intervene.”

So he had a black brother with an American accent, and apparently a vaguely Asian one with – well, why not, she thought – an Australian accent and rosary-guy looked and sounded more or less Indian. Fine. Man, did she have questions; but not now. “Intervene.” Her gun didn't waver.

“May we come in?” Aussie brother asked.

“I don't – ” rosary-guy had already opened the door and she just knew she had locked it before leaving. Who were these people? She toyed with the idea of calling for help, but they didn't actually seem armed. A bit insane, perhaps, but she was getting used to the Morningstar brand of crazy. Flicking the safety back on although not re-holstering her gun, she followed them in.

“We first want to try an exorcism, it might be enough.”

She stared at them while they got chalk and candles and incense out and began to set everything on the floor. “I don't want an exorcism. I want you out. Before I have to call for other cops.”

They ignored her and went on with their weird preparations, so she got her phone out. She glared at it when she saw she had no signal. What was wrong? She edged to the door but it was locked. What? She shook it, to no avail. She turned to the window, but then Aussie guy stood up from his mumbling things over a candle and looked at her. “You can't get out, Chloe Decker. It's for your own safety.”

What had she ended into?

 

The next few hours were confusing, in a fog of church smells and cryptic chants and fighting against restraints that were not there, lying in the middle of a circle of candles in her living room. One moment she was about to shoot them, the next they'd gently laid her on a white cloth on the wooden boards. She thought she could see great gray wings and halos around them, but she vaguely figured all the incense and the acrid smell from the candles were getting to her head. She couldn't really move, but she felt something tugging at her brain, at her heart; something trying to get out, or being ripped out maybe? She didn't know, and she clung to it – whatever it was. It was the only sure, definite, sharp and clear thing left in this haze of fear, and it was _hers_.

 

They sounded like they were getting more and more frustrated, she mused; and it dawned on her that maybe, maybe something worse would follow. She tried harder to move, to get out, and that's when her front door was torn off.

Maze was first, throwing knives at the two guys and distracting them. Suddenly free from this horrible pressure on her body and her soul, Chloe crawled out of the circle and ended up at Amenadiel's feet. He helped her up and stared at her and – did he have gray wings? “Chloe, are you all right? How do you feel?”

“You've got wings.”

“Chloe – ”

“I'm fine. A bit woozy, maybe? Bit of a headache?” She blinked, trying to clear her vision. “ _Wings_?”

“Later.” He pushed her behind him – _behind his wings_ – and she got a faceful of feathers as he launched himself in the fray. Surprisingly, Maze was having a hard time fighting the two men, and Chloe looked around to try and find her gun.

“Looking for this?”

She jumped at the sound of Lucifer's voice in her ear. Her weapon was dangling from his finger, but he dragged her outside instead of letting her take it. “Let me – Lucifer, I am not going to let them...!”

“It won't work, Chloe. Not on them. Trust me.”

“Two of your brothers, and by the way after this is over we're going to sit down and have a serious conversation about this shit, have attacked me in my home and you want me to stay outside and do nothing? Cry a little and wring my hands, maybe?”

“You don't understand – ”

A scream rent the air, and suddenly Lucifer was gone. In his stead, was an even taller – man? Red eyes, red skin, and white white teeth behind cracked, pulled-back lips. “Maze,” he growled and with a quick touch of his burning fingers on her cheek left her there, her gun fallen at her feet, leaving scorched earth behind him and a strong smell of sulfur.

Her legs gave out and she sat down quickly, clutching the gun, eyes wide and unseeing in front of a house that supernatural beings, apparently, were in the process of destroying while trying to kill each other.

People with wings.

Exorcism.

Lucifer.

Lucifer, glowing in the dark with the morning star above the horizon, long ago on a little beach house by the ocean. Lucifer slithering though a crevice in the rock, guiding children trapped underground back to safety. Lucifer playing _Heart and Soul_ with her on a piano, mourning the death of father Frank. Lucifer, asleep next to her, his fingers tangled in hers.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand up ever again.

 

She couldn't say how long she'd remained there, shivering, a useless firearm in her shaky fingers. She knew she could shoot straight, that she was a good shot, that she could be calm and steady if she had to. She'd done it before. She didn't really think it would make any difference.

The house was still standing, at least. Lucifer, crimson red and surrounded by a dark halo of flames and rage and leaving burning footprints behind him, stalked out, dragging the two intruders by their wings. Amenadiel followed, carrying Maze in his arms. Chloe finally lowered her gun and watched – her lover, she thought, her lover – throwing his quarry violently face down on the gravel. She was reminded then of the times she'd stayed his hand when he'd gone into a righteous fury at the sight of wrongdoers. He knew punishment, he'd said. He looked like he was about to tear off the wings of angels.

“Lucifer,” she said. “Lucifer.” He stopped trampling their faces in the dirt but didn't look at her. “Maze needs you.” He turned to Maze then, unconscious on a grassy patch, watching Amenadiel stroke her forehead and silently move his lips. “There's nothing we can do, can we, Luci,” he finally whispered.

“No,” Lucifer answered softly. “One of your feathers would kill her.” A golden arrow was sticking out of her stomach, and a black, thick liquid was oozing out of the wound. Chloe dragged herself by her side, kneeling and not knowing where to touch. They'd fought for her, she thought. For her, and for Lucifer, and for what they had together; and Maze was paying the price. Her vision was a bit blurry, and she felt salty tears burn her face a little. She closed her eyes, letting them fall. She didn't want to see this. She wanted to be back at the penthouse and forget what she had seen today, she wanted Amenadiel beaming at Maze out of her sight and Lucifer snickering at them from behind his piano, an evening with friends above their city, peaceful and warm.

As if from very far away, she heard Lucifer scream at the sky, at the unfairness of eternal death for a demon who was killed for being faithful. She heard her attackers' howls ending in whimpers, horrible rending sounds of wrath and vengeance. She heard the silence when Maze's slow, rasping breaths stopped.

 

Later, another, well, angel appeared. She bent over her two brothers, looking with disgust at their mauled bodies. “Father is most displeased,” she said, long blond hair falling in their wounds and irritating them. “You can't take it upon yourself to punish when there is no cause. Besides, Father has already appointed an executioner, and you are not him.” They must have tried to say something, because her tone was very sharp when she added, “No. You were wrong. It is not unnatural, and you caused death and pain to those who felt love. You are forbidden from Heaven until your hearts are true again.” She raised her head and her gold eyes bored into Lucifer's. “They are yours to do as you deem just. Father did not want this.” She looked at Amenadiel. “He did not.”

Turning to Chloe, she only said: “Father says thank you, Chloe Decker.”

As she faded into nothingness, the two rogue angels sort of melted through the ground, shrieking and twisting grotesquely. In the quiet evening, Maze's body dissolved into ash.

 

After a while, Amenadiel stood up and walked away, a curved blade gently cradled in his hand. Chloe heard wings flapping away, then nothing.

 

Lucifer joined her on the ground, looking in that moment just as exhausted as she felt. Chloe tried to take his hand but he backed away. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'll only hurt you.” He waved at her. “I burned your face when I touched you. When I'm like this...”

“Can't you change back?”

“Back? I _am_ the devil. This is my true self. The one you're used to is just the memory of what I was, before.” His fingers were digging into the dirt. “I am a monster at heart, Chloe. I deceived you. I deceived your daughter. Because I was selfish and I wanted you, I let you believe what you wanted. Because I used Maze and her vow, she...”

Ignoring his warning, she scooted closer and took his hand. It burned, but she clenched her teeth and squeezed all the harder. Lucifer stopped trying to escape her grip without hurting her when he saw his skin gradually fade from a vivid red to a pale, flawless pink. “Chloe...” She gave him a shaky smile. “Chloe, aren't you afraid?”

“A bit, maybe. Less than I was. So many things are clearer now, in a way.” She played with his ring a little. “You're still the weird guy who went after Trixie when he didn't have to. The guy who followed me in the warehouse and got shot. A pain in the ass.” She chuckled. “I don _'_ t _understand_. I think I understand even less than before. But I'm not afraid you're going to drown yourself as soon as we get near the ocean, so there's that.” She wiped her cheeks. “I'm going to miss her.”

He stood up, looking at the house. “What do you want to do?”

“Check the damage first, I think.” She held out her hand, waiting for him to take it and haul her up. He did after a few seconds, visibly still wary of touching her.

They entered the house, and it wasn't as bad as she'd expected. A lot of the furniture was broken, a few windows; the door was off its hinges. There had been fires here and here – the sofa was a pile of charred wood and fabric, the curtains were gone. The open kitchen was entirely destroyed. Some of the floorboards were torn off. But the upstairs rooms seemed untouched, and Trixie's room – there was a puddle of black, tar-like goo in front of the door. Lucifer knelt there, head bowed. “They never got inside,” he said. Chloe put a hand on his shoulder.

 

She'd insisted on going back to his penthouse afterwards. He didn't really seem to believe her when she claimed she wasn't afraid of him, and he was taking pains to keep his distance. Once the elevator opened its doors, she'd had enough. She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the couch, sat him down, went to the bar and poured two glasses of something that looked sufficiently alcoholic, and then plopped down next to him, tumblers in hand and bottle under her arm. “Here,” she said. “Now, first we're going to have a toast to Maze.”

He looked at her, then gingerly took the whisky she was handing him, doing his best to avoid touching her fingers. “Thank you,” he said, stilted and his eyes everywhere but on her. “To Mazikeen.”

“To Mazikeen.”

They drank to her memory, the alcohol burning like flames going down their strangled throats.

 

Her brain a bit fuzzy with exhaustion and alcohol, Chloe set her tumbler next to the mostly empty bottle and snuggled up to Lucifer. He didn't move a muscle. “You know,” she said, I don't think you're suddenly going to turn into a horrible monster and eat me now that I know.”

“I _am_ a horrible monster.” He tried to creep away from her, but she took his arm and put it firmly over her shoulders. “You've seen me.”

“I have. Serious case of sunburn you've got going on.”

“Chloe...”

“Don't you Chloe me. I'm not going anywhere, Lucifer. After today, I'm more scared of what's coming down from up there than from downstairs. But I'd like some explanations. Now, or soon. Please.”

“Of course.” When she'd been silent for a while, he went on. “What do you want to know?”

“Well. I really don't know where to start.” She sighed. “What's with the feathers in the box? What happened that day, when I thought you'd gone to drown yourself in the Pacific?”

He let his head fall on the back of the couch, his long neck bared and slightly stubbled. “I've burned my wings. And yet, I'm shedding feathers. I demanded answers.”

“And he answered?”

“He... he talked to me.” His voice broke a little. “He hadn't said anything to me in so long.”

Chloe shivered. That 'he' they were mentioning and never naming, she'd never really believed in. She had always lived her life according to what she felt was good and right but there was, in fact, a god. Just the one. Lucifer's father, the father he'd always complained about, their relationship a bleeding wound, another unhealed scar on him.

“Can you tell me what he said?”

“He said...” He made a weird noise. “He said, 'There is a plan, Samael.' that's... that's what he said.”

She remembered him crying on his brother's shoulder, she remembered how he'd clung to her all night long. “Samael?”

“That's my name. My first name.”

“It's not Lucifer?”

“It's, well. Lucifer is more of a description. I do... I did carry light, back in the day. I carried it to the skies, I carried it to the stars, to the sun. I lit the world. I made the planet you call Venus.”

“The morning star.”

“Yes.”

Chloe mulled on that for a moment. “So your father didn't make all the universe?”

“We were allowed to do many things. Michael made the one you call Mars. Gabriel made Mercury. Ramiel made Pluto. And before that, we made the first stars and galaxies and black holes. We made everything.”

“What happened?”

There was a long silence. “My father created the first man and the first woman.”

“Did you disagree?”

“No.” Tentative, his fingers ran over the skin of her neck. “But he asked me... he asked me to tempt her.”

“Eve?”

“She'd done nothing wrong. But he set her up to fail, to tempt her with knowledge and – how is that wrong? To want to _know_?”

“What did he say?”

“That knowledge was freedom. That freedom was better than blind happiness.”

“And you don't believe that?”

“I don't know anymore. I don't _know_.”

“Admit it, you're greedy. You want it all, freedom and happiness both.”

He finally, finally looked down at her, curled up against him. “I do. Oh, I do...”

 

It was strange, she thought, making love with the devil. Lucifer she knew; but that night it was... Satan? Samael? Someone – not exactly new, but... more, maybe. Less controlled, more vocal; in tongues she didn't understand and echoing around them. She could feel the muscles in his back bunching under her hands, the skin there almost entirely baby-smooth by now. He felt warm, so much warmer too, surrounding her and crawling in her arms and, eventually, falling asleep cradled there between the back of the couch and her body. His face was a bit wet, and she kissed his forehead where no horns had ever been, after all.

Waking up later in the night to get some water and a soft blanket to cover his shivering frame, she found another feather under her hand. It was almost as long as her forearm, soft and so white it was almost luminous. She carefully put it in the box by his bed.

As she was closing the lid, she felt his arms circle her waist, his chin scratch her shoulder. She turn around and saw his eyes still mostly closed, his hair flattened on one side. He crawled on the bed while holding her like Trixie did sometimes, half-asleep and clutching her favorite teddy bear. She let him, this time, and felt him bury his face in her neck with a shuddery breath.

 

The morning came too soon, and with it the memory of all that had changed. All that had remained the same, too – Chloe clung to that. Lucifer sleeping with his face smashed in a pillow, a hand in hers. His fingers squeezing then letting her go when she left the bed. Him, moving to her pillow with a little sigh.

She found her phone blinking at her, its battery almost dead because she'd forgotten to plug it in again. She had a message from Ana wishing her pleasant holidays, another from Dan's mother to tell her Trixie was with her and that they'd skype tomorrow.

She started the coffee and when she had filled a mug she went to sit outside, wrapped in Lucifer's black silk robe. It smelled like him. It was Christmas Eve tonight, and she was going to spend it grieving with a broken-hearted devil. She looked up at the few clouds up in the sky, drifting between Earth and, presumably, the heavens. “Can you hear me?” she whispered. “Would you hear me?”

There was no answer, of course.

 

Lucifer joined her a bit later, bundled in a ridiculously fluffy bathrobe, sleep-warm and hazy. He stretched with his head on her thighs, his nose in the folds of silk. “I don't want to wake up,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said. “I know.” He needs you, she thought. He needs you, she prayed.

 

The day inched by, Lucifer listlessly poking at his piano and chain-smoking, a tumbler always near him. He absolutely refused to leave the penthouse, even just to go down to his club. There was no fire left in him, no spark. She tried not to think of Trixie, asking for Maze. Of Amenadiel.

As the afternoon waned, he joined her in the kitchen. She was trying to recreate her grandmother's mulled wine recipe, but she wasn't quite there yet. The spicy smells of cinnamon and clove, honey and nutmeg clung to her. He bent a little, breathing her in. “I'm sorry,” he sighed. His breath made her hair flutter. “Do you want me to drive you to your in-laws? Or your mother? I'm not good company. Or. Or I can get someone to drive you there, if you'd rather? It's a bit far and I know you're tired, but... I'd get someone to fix your house before your return, your little human would never know and – ”

She kissed the corner of his mouth to stop the flood of words. “My mother is with her boyfriend's family, Trixie is with Dan and his ankle monitor, and I'm not leaving you on your own.”

“But...”

“Do you remember, when you asked me to tell you how it worked? _This_ is how it works. For better and for worse, in good times and bad.”

“This is... bad.”

“Yes, it is.” She dragged a stool and gestured for him to sit as she cut the ginger in thinner slices. “But there have been bad times before, and there will be after. And there will be good times, too.”

“”You humans...” he toyed with a piece of cinnamon bark. “How do you deal with it? Everyone dying, all the time... I don't... I can't...” He was trying hard not to cry, looking intently at his hands and his jaw working.

“Have you never lost anyone before?”

“I thought...” He took a deep breath. “I thought I had lost everything already. I thought...” Finally, he raised his head. His eyes were glistening. “And then there's you. Chloe... Chloe, I...”

He was crying in earnest then, great big fat tears, gulping air and sobbing, his face blotchy and his nose running. She handed him some kitchen paper and held him against her chest for a long time.

When it looked like he'd mostly cried himself out, she wiped her own cheeks and said, “let's have a wake tonight. Can you get your brother to come? He probably needs this too.”

He nodded against her, reluctant to leave her warmth. “I think,” he mumbled, “that you need to add aniseed.”

She kissed the top of his head.

 

They all had needed it, Chloe thought as she threw a blanket over Amenadiel. She wasn't sure what she'd tell Trixie when she'd be back, how she'd explain Maze's absence and Amenadiel's grief, Lucifer's mourning and her own heartache. She joined Lucifer in his room, looking out at the city with a hand on the windowpane. His eyes met hers, reflected on the glass. “She missed the old me,” he said.

“She said she did. She must have changed too, though. She wouldn't admit it, but...”

A corner of his mouth lifted up. “Yes, her little affair with my brother was quite the surprise.” He turned to face her. “And you...”

Chloe caught his hand on her cheek and kissed his palm. “And me?”

“I wonder... you haven't run away screaming yet, for starters.” He grasped her shoulders. “You probably should.”

“Look, I get it; you're big and scary and the devil, but I know you. You, Lucifer. You could have hurt me or Trixie so many times if you'd really wanted to, but you never did.”

He blinked and when his eyes reopened, they were red and burning. “Look at me, Chloe. Look. That is the real me, that is – ”

“Stop it. You do realize that it's only making you more, well, human, right? No one's entirely good or bad. We're all angry sometimes, and generous, and lost, and in love, and grateful. Sometimes it's all at the same time. I'm not going anywhere because of _that_.”

“But one day, you...” he swallowed his last words.

“Don't think about it. That's our little human secret: we try very hard not to think too much about it, most of the time. Come to bed,” she said dragging him away from the window. Live with me here in the present, she thought. Let's make memories, at least, to sustain you until you fall in love again.

 

It was snowing in the morning. It was Christmas day in Los Angeles, and fluffy little flakes were falling from a grey-white sky, disappearing before they even touched the ground, floating gently in the pale, early morning light. Chloe looked down at Lucifer, who had curled around her pillow as soon as she'd sat up to wonder at the sight outside. She skimmed her fingers over his shoulder, his now flawless back; and she watched as he started to glow, gently at first and then more and more. She remembered that first time, when he'd said it happened sometimes. She remembered he'd smiled so wide all while he'd been half-asleep, while brushing it off. She remembered he'd said he used to carry light.

After a while, Amenadiel came in the room and stared at his brother, still sleeping, his skin warm and soft against Chloe's. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

At the sound, Lucifer stirred and sighed a little, moving to his side and blinking up at her. “Good mo – ” He frowned at his brother, smiling and his eyes wet; then saw the clock by the bed. “Why is there so much light at – ” He sat up slowly, the light in the room dimming a little. His breathing hitched, then sped up when he felt a small hand run over his smooth back.

“What should we call you now, I wonder,” she mused softly.

 

They followed him outside on the balcony. He walked to the railing and carefully removed one of the glass panes, then stood there on the edge, his light reflected on the snowflakes whirling around him. He looked up into the clouds and then – dropped. Chloe gasped a little, even if she had expected it; still feeling her heart clench when he disappeared.

After a few breathless seconds, the fog started to part and they saw a bright light flying up, up into the sky; the clouds giving way to a bright morning sky and the snow soon a memory. After he'd disappeared, Chloe and Amenadiel went back inside. The penthouse still smelled like spices, comforting and warm.

“What is going to happen?”

“I don't know. He's probably going to start by yelling at our father. He always was the only one who dared say out loud when he thought something was unfair, when he didn't understand our father's purpose. I guess they both must have missed the shouting matches.” Amenadiel smiled a bit. “He's going to get mobbed by all of our brothers and sisters. He was the first, you know. The eldest. He was alone with father for a very long time, until the rest of us came.”

“It must have stung.”

“Probably.” He played a bit with Maze's knife, watching the way it fit in his hand, the way it didn't break his skin anymore.

“Is he coming back?”

Amenadiel eyed her. “You are here. Of course he is.”

 

As the sun rose above the horizon, they waited for his return. A change in the light made them look toward the balcony and there he was, barefoot and wearing a black, flowing robe cinched at the waist. She thought she could see huge white wings for a second, just before he joined them inside.

“That's very... cassock-like,” Chloe said.

“You know white isn't my colour.” He touched her hair, letting his fingers run through them, still tousled and untied. “No one up there has hair quite like yours. I thought I had forgotten, but...” He turned to his brother. “Father says hello, and...” He made a gesture and in his arms, a mountain lion cub with a scarred face appeared. It immediately jumped at Amenadiel and planted its claws in his chest. “You know her name.”

“Father... father brought her back?”

“I may have yelled a bit.” Amenadiel opened his mouth but – “I didn't do it for you, you know. Can't be a proper king of hell without my best lieutenant.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” He turned to Chloe. “Now, my dear. Have you ever had any fantasies about corrupting a priest?”

 

And it may have been the best Christmas day ever, finally.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The story has some sad bits, but it ends well, I promise.  
> I can see two things that might be considered potentially triggering:  
> \- children in danger (but not really, they are safe and it's the adults that are freaking out, although with good reason from their point of view)  
> \- suicidal tendencies (but not really either: it's more a matter of misunderstanding what's happening).  
> There's also a character death, but as I said: happy ending!  
> If you see anything else that might be a problem, please tell me so I can edit these notes.


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